Lyra Parish - Weak for Him

"You're ready? Already?"

"I'm not high maintenance."

He led me down the stairs. The boards that used to creak no longer did. Every imperfection in the house had been fixed. I never thought it would look so well preserved. We smiled at the other guests in the living room area and were out the door.

Crickets and cicadas buzzed in a harmonic symphony of sounds. They usually did that after a light rain. Luke opened the car door for me, and I shut it before climbing in, and adjusted the collar on his polo. Then I gently wrapped my arms around his neck and thanked him. His arms fit around my waist, and he lifted me slightly from the ground. Once he set me down, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I appreciate the gesture to drive, but really, let me."

The keys found their way to my palm. I slid into the driver's side and zoomed down the driveway, again. Watching the house fade away to nothingness reminded me of the day I left for Vegas. But the house, along with myself, had transformed into something I didn't know. If it could talk, I imagined it would say it didn't recognize me either, but changing was inevitable.

Living in an oil town meant there were several restaurants open all hours of the night. Although there was nothing high-class like in Vegas, I had the perfect place. Tuscany: where there were unlimited pastabilities.

The setting, cute and old-fashioned, would be perfect. We parked on the side of the street and walked inside. The bell above the door let everyone know we entered. Little candles decorated the checkered table clothes, and for that moment as I studied Luke perusing the menu, I thought that he possibly could fit in, in a place like this, my home. Where expensive cars, corporate offices, and Elite members-only clubs didn't exist. Only the two of us mattered here while enjoying one another's company with no interruptions or worries.

"Thank you," I said over the menu that I wasn't really looking at because I practically had it memorized.

"For?"

"Planning this. None of the things back in Vegas really matter while we're here. You know? It feels different."

Luke grabbed my hands and a girl I went to high school with took our order. I ordered my favorite spaghetti and meatballs and Luke had the same and ordered a bottle of Bruno's Cranberry Wine.

"How did you know that cranberry was my favorite?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose."

Minutes passed, and the waitress arrived with a bottle and no cork, and poured the wine into the empty glasses.

"Oh, hey, Jennifer. What have you been up to? Heard you were engaged and living in Vegas."

Typical small town rumors laced with typical small town talk.

"Oh, hey." I couldn't remember her name; how embarrassing. "I've been up to nothing, just working. And no, I'm not engaged."

Better to squash the rumor while I had a chance. The girl looked at Luke, and I knew what this meant, she expected an introduction.

"This is Luketon Brand, my boyfriend ."

She took his hand willingly. "Oh a pleasure, Mr. Brand. I'm Julie Jean."

"Call me Luke, please."

She giggled nervously. "Where are you from, Luke? Not here, obviously."

I gritted my teeth. This was how rumors exploded into the abyss. The chatty women only need a little bit of information and the stories would spread like wildfire.

"I'm from a little town in the U.K. close to London."

"Oohhh. Well, welcome to Texas, honey."

She didn't take her eyes from Luke, and I didn't blame her. He looked good. The teal polo shirt accentuated his crystal blue eyes. Any woman around here would be insane to not go for a beautiful, single man like him.

"Well, if you and Jennifer ever break up, you call me, darlin'."

I placed my hand close to my mouth and whispered "I'm sorry." He gave a nod toward me and sipped his wine as she walked away.

"How embarrassing," I said.

He played along. "I may ring her if she leaves her number."

"Hardy har har. Just your type, Luke."

He leaned across the table and asked, "What is my type?"

"I'd like to think I'm your type," I whispered.

Luke bit his bottom lip. That drove me wild.

"I'd like to think you are as well," he said.

He smiled and sipped his wine. Not having anything else to do, I sipped mine as well.

"I love the way the cranberry tastes. It's like a tingle, and then an explosion in your mouth. I love that freakin' winery."

Once the spaghetti arrived, I grabbed my utensils and ate it the way I learned in etiquette training. Spinning the noodles on the spoon until they were completely twisted around the fork, and then taking small bites as not to splash the sauce on my face. Also, I didn't finish my meal, not because "a lady never finishes her plate," but rather, the hometown portions were much larger than I had remembered.

At times throughout the evening, I felt like a stranger to my own customs. As if I were a ship lost at sea, finally reaching my destination, but not recognizing it as I remembered. I had changed too much, too quickly.

Luke paid the bill, and the girl at the counter told me that Abbie was at the restaurant earlier that night. Shit, Abbie. I had completely forgotten to tell her I was home. I'd text her as soon as I got back to the house.

The headlights reflected from the stone white pavement leading up to the house. I drove slow and parked on the edge of the driveway. Luke opened his hand, and I gave him the keys.

As we walked up the steps to the porch, he followed close behind. Before I could get to the top, he pulled my hand to turn me around. My face was so close to his. His breath felt warm on my cheeks. Gently, he tucked my hair behind my ear and bit his bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

I led him up the steps and lifted myself onto the railing as he stood in front of me. My breathing increased, and pulse quickened. Luke leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, making sure not to press. We couldn't break the contract, but instead mildly walked the fine line that Finn had created for us. Instinctively, not caring, I trailed my hands up his shirt and lightly brushed my fingers across his stomach muscles. As his mouth found my neck and earlobe, I swallowed.

"I wish I would have met you before you signed that ridiculous contract," he said.

"You wouldn't have given me a chance if I weren't an Elite."

I lifted my chin toward him and looked into his eyes, full of hope, want, and… lust? He lightly trailed up my neck with his lips. With my eyes closed, I wanted nothing more than to be kissed by him, to feel his lips mingling with mine, fully tasting him. With every bit of strength I could muster without losing my balance, I pulled him closer to me and stood. Returning his nibbles and kisses, but making sure to leave our lips apart from one another.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now, it's driving me mad," he said.

"We can't," I said, defeated.

"I know."

I took his hand and led him up the stairs to my old bedroom. Before turning off the light, I unbuttoned each button on the black dress until it slid from my shoulders onto the floor. Dark blue bra and panties—a set that Finn had given to me when I first joined the ranks of The Elite—hugged to my body like a glove. Luke smiled and bit that sexy lip, that juicy delicious lip that I wanted to kiss me all over.

"It's your turn," I said. With his shirt in his index finger and thumb, he did a little twirling motion as if he were giving me my own personal strip tease. I laughed.

"Shh. They might hear us," he said.

Off went his polo, and then his white undershirt—nothing but abs and chest, and tattoos.

"Whoa. Stop right there, mister. You didn't say anything about these. What does that one say?"

A tattoo under his pectoral muscle read: